


Other Worlds Than These

by edibleflowers



Category: Final Fantasy XV, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Crossover, Gen, Headcanon, M/M, Prompt Fill, Randomness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 03:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10711020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: Multiple universes exist. These are a few of them.





	1. "Marry me."

**Author's Note:**

> Since I've been kinda blocked (chronic headaches are a bitch), I'm trying to get back into writing with some prompts and headcanons. Some of these may be expanded eventually. Others are just pure crack. (And no, they're not *all* Prompto/Ignis.) I'll probably keep adding to it but don't expect regular updates and blah blah bitty blah I'm so stuffy gimme a scone.

"Marry me," Prompto says.

Ignis blinks. Pauses. When he turns from the counter where he's been meticulously dicing carrots for a mirepoix, Prompto's kneeling before him, a velvet ring box held open in his upraised palm.

Ignis nearly drops the knife on Prompto. Somehow, he manages to fumble it to the cutting board instead.

Prompto's hand trembles, and the afternoon sun scatters shards of light across the kitchen (their kitchen), bright and shivering. "Prompto," Ignis says, stunned. Prompto lets out a nervous chuckle. His cheeks are red; he's blushing to the tips of his ears.

"Please," he says. "I--I know this is sudden, but I've been wanting to ask for so long and there never seemed to be a good time and I--"

Ignis's eyes sting with unexpected tears. He drops to his knees, hands clasping Prompto's face, and draws his lover in for a kiss.

"You arse," he says, with a choked laugh, and reaches into a drawer behind him. His hand comes back out with a similar ring box. It's Prompto's turn to laugh.

"Of course I will."


	2. Watch where you're going!

Prompto's so engrossed in the map in his hands that he doesn't see the man in front of him until it's too late. He yelps as they go over in a heap of limbs and books.

"Oh my gosh, I am _so sorry_ ," he moans, even as he's picking himself up and reaching for a spilled stack of papers before they blow away. The heavy paper comprising the stack, he realizes a moment later, is photo quality, and he blinks as he shuffles it all into a pile. "Are you all right?" he asks.

"Fine, fine," replies a testy, Tenebraean-accented voice. "I've no doubt only broken a hip due to my advanced age."

In horror, Prompto looks up. He's still new to the campus and learning his way around, but he recognizes his brand-new photography professor from class yesterday. From the back of the classroom, Prompto hadn't paid much attention, though he had snickered at some comment one of the girls made about how the guy was a positive antique.

Up close, Ignis Scientia is clearly in his late 20s at most. The only wrinkles Prompto can make out are the ones between his narrowed eyebrows, drawn low over eyes flickering with annoyance. A delicate finger and thumb push the glasses back up his nose, and Professor Scientia reaches wordlessly for the stack of photographs.

"I'm so, _so_ sorry," Prompto says again, helplessly, and places the stack into Scientia's waiting hands.


	3. *He* did it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Arumattie.

Prompto stares.

Gladio stares.

Noctis stares.

Ignis, leaning over the mud puddle and delicately lifting his notebook from the murky depths, says absolutely nothing.

"You happy now?" Gladio growls in Prompto and Noctis's direction.

"He did it," Noctis blurts. Prompto, for his part, points accusatively at his best friend.

The ruined notebook delicately held between one thumb and forefinger, Ignis mounts the ramp leading up to the haven once more. It's not raining anymore, but the ground is still damp where they stand, and the notebook lands at Noct's feet with a wet plop.

Ignis continues on to the prep table where the notebook had been laid out to aid him with the evening's cooking. As if there had been no interruption (say, perhaps, a certain young King of Lucis and his best friend mock-wrestling until Prompto's boot slipped and he hit the prep table and sent a certain notebook flying off the campground to land in a certain mud puddle), the advisor resets the table and begins to take out ingredients for what appears to be a cold supper.

Noctis toes the notebook toward Prompto. Prompto toes it back in Noct's direction.

"If one of you doesn't clean that up," Ignis says over his shoulder, without so much as glancing at them, "I will never cook another meal for either of you again."

Prompto goes pale and ducks for the notebook. Noctis grabs for it at the same time. Gladio growls and yanks it from their hands. "Before you knock over the godsdamned table _again_ ," he mutters, and stomps off. 

Dinner's going to be very cold indeed.


	4. It's from his days in Milan, boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Arumattie.

"Look at him," Gladio says, amused, as Ignis proceeds down the dock towards the Mother of Pearl. His stride is loose and easy, almost a strut. A passing woman stops, turning to watch him as he goes by.

"The fuck?" Prompto says.

Noctis shakes his head as, far ahead of them now, Ignis stops, pivoting on a heel. Hands go to hips as he waits for them to catch up. Standing there insouciantly, he looks like he might be posing for a picture.

Obligingly, as if in a daze, Prompto holds up his camera and snaps. Then takes another -- and another. Ignis glides back towards them, feet confident and steady on the planks, long legs showing to his best advantage, and Prompto keeps shooting.

"When did you learn to walk a runway?" he demands when Ignis has reached them again.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Ignis winks at him and then saunters away again. Without conscious thought, Prompto raises his camera for more pictures.


	5. It's just his color.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Arumattie.

Noctis keeps messing up his blocks. Gladio's getting tired of it; Noct had blocking down cold last week, and today he's barely paying attention to the weapon in Gladio's hands at all.

After the fifth time, Gladio knocks his future king to the mattress and stands over him. "You wanna tell me why you don't feel like focusing today?" he asks, blunt as ever.

Noctis shakes his head. "N-not really," he says.

Gladio snorts. "Nice try, but you don't get outta answering this one."

Noct's eyes go far to the right, far to the left. Gladio grins, just this side of feral, as he realizes just why Noctis is avoiding looking at him. He offers a hand. Noctis almost doesn't take it, but then seems to realize it'd be worse if he didn't and slaps his hand into Gladio's, with its perfect purple-and-star-glitter-polished nails.

"Sometime," Gladio says, yanking Noct to his feet and resummoning his broadsword, "I'm gonna let you sit down with Iris and me for one of her tea parties."

Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, future ruler of the Realm of Lucis, Duke of Leide, Protector of the Crystal, looks utterly horrified.


	6. Yakusoku wa iranai~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It probably helps to have watched anime from 1996 to understand this one. Sorry.

Prompto's falling, falling, falling--

And the figure appears above him, just like so many times in the visions he's had since coming to the world of Gaia. Only this time, as it soars on wide-flung wings and dives sharply to stretch out a hand to his, he can see the person's face for the first time.

It isn't Ignis after all, like he was so sure it was. It's Noct, shirtless, hair whipping around his face.

"Noctis," Prompto says, though his voice is lost in the wind swirling around them.

Later, once they've found a place to hide in a forest copse, Noct tells Prompto about his parents: how his father, the previous King of Lucis, had met his mother, a Draconian from the former Earth empire of Atlantis, and married her in defiance of his counselors and knights. Noctis had inherited her wings, but not her sense of caution. Iris has given up trying to tell him not to talk by now, spending her time binding his wounds instead. Nearby, Escaflowne watches over them, a silent metal giant.

"People are scared of the Draconians," Noct says, "and with good reason. They ruled Earth and they nearly destroyed Gaia, too. You can't tell anyone about my wings."

"I wouldn't," Prompto says, quiet and fervent. "Not ever."

(If he did, he'd probably start babbling about how beautiful they are, and that'd be bad for everyone.)


	7. we were born to make history

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this headcanon and you will pry it from my cold dead hands.

It's been three years, but the rink hasn't changed at all.

From the moment he steps inside and feels the chill in the air, Prompto is smiling. He can't help it. This place has been a home away from home, more often than not, and the sound of skates moving on the ice, the panting and occasional grunt when a skater spills over, the music echoing over the PA system, could rock him to sleep.

He slips through and into the main arena itself. Unsurprisingly, the slim form of Yuri Plisetsky dominates the ice, despite the other skaters also practicing there. Prompto sees Yuri's coach, Yakov Feltsman, standing just off the ice watching with his usual impassive expression. Nearby, a tall, slender woman with the build of a dancer and brown hair pulled back in a severe bun nods in time to music none of them can hear; it is, however, clearly on pace with Yuri's moves.

Quietly, Prompto steps up to the boards. He unzips his camera bag and takes out the camera, fitting a zoom lens to it. A few quick adjustments to check the focus and then he's snapping, glancing at the screen, snapping again. Yuri has always had grace and speed on the ice, but there's something new in his routine that Prompto wants to capture.

He nearly drops the camera and yelps when a hand lands on his shoulder. 

"Excuse me," says a firm voice. "We don't allow spectators to take pictures during practice sessions. I'll have to ask you to delete those photos."

Turning, Prompto blinks at the man who had somehow managed to appear silently beside him. He's a few inches taller than Prompto, glasses perched on a long, straight nose, brown hair styled in a little swoop at the front. _Cute_ , Prompto thinks absently, and then upgrades it: _no, handsome_.

"Sorry, and you are?" he asks.

"Ignis Scientia." The man is holding out his hand, so Prompto puts his own into it and shakes. "No, I meant--" 

Ignis is clearly just a little flustered. Prompto smiles wryly. "I know what you meant," he says. "But I'm not deleting the pictures. Hey, wait, I know that name. You handle all the business stuff for the team, right?" He indicates the skaters on the ice with a nod of his head.

"That is a bit of an understatement, but yes." Ignis, put off only briefly, narrows his eyebrows. "Now, since you know me, would you mind telling me who you are?"

Prompto's actually about to tell the man his name when someone else does it for him. From across the ice, there's a breathless shout: "Prompto!" Yuri cries, and he's flying across to the boards, hands out to catch himself so he doesn't crash into them. 

Grinning, Prompto hikes himself up on the boards so that he can hug Yuri. He lets himself back down again and puts his hand on Yuri's head, thoroughly mussing the young man's already-messy blond mop of a hairstyle.

To Ignis, he says, almost as an afterthought, "Prompto Plisetsky. I'm Yuri's brother and photographer. Nice to meet you."

He has the satisfaction of watching Ignis's skeptical expression flatten out into a stare of surprise before Yuri's dragging him off to make him watch the whole routine again from the top, ignoring Yakov's disapproving shout completely.


	8. a pleasant burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by marleymars.

"For gods' sakes," Gladio says, "sit your ass _down_ , Prompto."

Prompto turns and does so, though not without a good grumble first. He'd honestly thought he'd be able to get away with it, at least for a while: it's not like he doesn't turn himself in the car to hang over the back of his seat to talk to Noct and Gladio at least half of the time they're traveling anyway. 

He does his best to not wince as he settles into the seat again. Even so, he can't quite hide the sting of pain that flashes across his face. The only one who notices is Ignis, fortunately, and he offers a sympathetic smile as he pats Prompto's knee.

"We'll stop soon," he murmurs, as Prompto squirms uncomfortably in the seat. Prompto gives him a weak smile and settles, finally, half on his hip, folding his arms on the car door to watch the scenery pass by. At least he had fun getting the sunburn, even if he's paying for it now.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one isn't an AU, but it's too small to post on its own.

"You said you liked me long before we ever actually met," Ignis says, one evening, and Prompto startles awake.

He's been dozing, drifting, comfortable and warm in Ignis's arms and sated from their lovemaking. Outside, rain lashes at the windows of the Leville, a vivid reminder of what's kept them inside all day. They'd ordered room service, screwed, slept, ordered more food. Now, Prompto blinks and sits up a little, rubs at his eyes.

"Sorry," Ignis says, contrite. "Were you asleep?"

"Not yet." Prompto reaches over for the bottle of water he'd left on the nightstand. It's nearly empty, but he doesn't drink it all, offering Ignis the last couple of swallows. Ignis takes it, his eyes on Prompto as he drinks.

"So?" Ignis asks. "Or is that a strange question?"

Prompto settles back into place, curled up against Ignis's lean, long, naked body. "No, no, just surprised me a little." He doesn't even remember when he'd made that statement; not long after they first confessed their feelings, he supposes. "It's true, though."

"Might I ask how? Did you have a prophetic dream?"

That makes Prompto laugh. He puts an elbow in the pillow and rests his head on his hand so that he can watch Ignis as he talks. "Nothing like that, no. No, uh, Noct invited me up to the Citadel once, I guess about half a year before we left Insomnia. Something like that. Anyway, he was showin' me around a bit, and we went by the training ground. You were sparrin' with Gladio."

Ignis makes a sound of acknowledgement. "We didn't often get the chance to use the Glaives' training ground. That must have been one of the times most of them were on assignment."

"I guess?" Prompto agrees. "Anyway, uh. I remember seein' you do some move with a spear where you planted it in the ground and used it like a pole jumper would, and all I could think was: _That was so cool_. I guess I stopped payin' attention to anything else because Noct had to drag me out of there."

He feels himself go a little red at the memory, though Ignis's smile is gentle in response. "You were really somethin' to see," Prompto finishes, fingers plucking at the hem of the sheet that covers them.

"You flatter me," Ignis says, but his hand slides up to curve at Prompto's nape, and Prompto goes in easily for the kiss, feeling somehow that Ignis doesn't mind at all.


End file.
